


Morte di un Migliaio Petali

by snarky_saxophonist



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mentions of Blood, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_saxophonist/pseuds/snarky_saxophonist
Summary: Kris stops, looking at the the door Anthony had disappeared through. He had been fine while running with Anthony, but the moment he leaves Anthony’s side, he’s coughing up petals, along with blood. “I’m in love with Anthony.”Or, the Bryzzo Hanahaki story that nobody asked for.





	Morte di un Migliaio Petali

**Author's Note:**

> Title translates to 'Death of a Thousand Petals,' but there's no character death in this. See the end notes for more detailed content warnings.
> 
> If you or someone you know personally is tagged in this story, please close out of this now. This is intended to be a work of fiction, and none of these events are meant to reflect real life.
> 
> I'm more than ready for the offseason to be over, so I'm attempting to fill the void by writing fic. I'll hopefully have a couple other stories coming out before Opening Day.

The sun is out at Wrigley Field, but it’s not too hot for once, and Anthony’s smile as he trots to where Kris is waiting at home plate is equally bright. Kris smiles back as Anthony bypasses his hand, outstretched for a high five, instead going in for a hug. He’s earned it, with his go-ahead two run homer in the seventh, and Kris never minds Anthony hugging him, anyways.

He follows Anthony down into the dugout, high fiving his teammates down the line before ducking into the tunnel so he can make a quick bathroom stop before the next inning. He coughs a little as he goes to rejoin his teammates, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest that’s been there since Denver several weeks before. Freaking Denver, always making him feel awful. Usually it doesn’t last this long, but whatever, he’ll talk to the trainers if the cough persists too long.

“What’s on your sleeve, KB?” Schwarbs asks, nodding at something on Kris’s arm. Kris picks it off his uniform, frowning at it.

“A flower petal, I think?” He shrugs, offering it to Schwarbs to look at. “No idea how it got there.”

“Maybe a secret admirer is throwing flower petals to you,” Javy suggests, joining them at the rail. 

“Oh yes, I’m sure that’s what happened,” Kris says, rolling his eyes and going to throw the flower petal away when Schwarbs starts making kissy faces at him. He notices Kyle Hendricks giving him a weird look from the bench, but when Kris meets his gaze, Kyle just nods and looks away, an inscrutable look in his dark eyes.

“Pitchers, am I right?” Anthony mutters in Kris’s ear, coming up from behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“What?” Kris asks, distracted by the warmth of Anthony’s body against him.

“Pitchers are weird,” Anthony says, poking Kris gently in the ribs. “Did you not notice the Professor giving you a strange look back there?”

“No, I did, I just didn’t think much of it,” Kris shrugs, leaning back against his teammate. “Hmm. Do you think Joe would let us switch out of this game early so I don’t have to run all the way back out there to left?”

“Oh please, like you’d ever ask that,” Anthony laughs, tugging Kris along with him to grab their gloves. His chest tightens up a little again when Anthony lets go of him so they can go to their positions, but Kris chalks it up to jogging across the field.

He spends the rest of the inning coughing in left field, trying to time his coughing fits in between pitches so he doesn’t lose focus. Still, he’s grateful when the inning ends quickly without anything being hit to him and he can run back to the dugout to get his water bottle. He drops onto the bench, sucking down half of in a few long gulps.

“Feeling alright there, Kris?” PJ Mainville asks, sitting down next to him and giving him a long look.

“Yeah, just a bit of a dry throat,” Kris shrugs it off, giving PJ a bright smile. The trainer looks unconvinced, his lips going tight with displeasure.

“How long has this been going on?” he asks, reaching out to pass Kris a cup of water when Kris coughs into his elbow again.

“Just since Denver,” Kris admits reluctantly. “I feel fine other than the cough, I can still play.”

“There’s only one inning left, I’m not going to pull you out now if you think you’re fine, but come see me before the game tomorrow, alright?” Kris nods, and PJ heads off across the dugout, apparently satisfied. 

“You good to go hit, KB?” Maddon asks when Kris heads over to grab his bat. Kris smiles and nods, trotting up the dugout steps into the on deck circle. As he takes a few swings, he watches the pitches Zo’s getting, trying to figure out what the Reds’ closer has today. Not much, apparently, if the three straight balls he’s thrown are any indication. The catcher trots out to the mound, putting a hand on his pitcher’s back and speaking quietly into his glove. Kris taps his bat against his foot, anxious for play to resume.

The mound visit doesn’t have the desired effect, as Zo hammers the next pitch out to the wall in right. The pitcher scowls, clearly upset at himself as Zo makes his way to second with a leadoff double.

Kris takes one last swing, then steps into the box, fixing his gaze on the ball, clenched in the pitcher’s hand. He’s gotta at least move Zo over, get him to third for Anthony to bring him home. The first pitch is slow, and Kris almost thinks it’s going to break and end up a foot out of the zone, but it stays where it is, letting him make solid contact. It’s not hard enough for a good hit, but it might just be enough to get him to first, so he takes off down the line, running hard. In his peripheral vision, he can see the Reds’ shortstop start to throw from his knees and pours on one last bit of gas, lunging for the bag just before Votto reaches his glove out. He only has a moment to comprehend the umpire barking out “safe!” before his right foot hits the ground again, pain shooting up his leg. His knee buckles under him, sending him crashing to the ground before he can try to catch himself. 

“Fuck,” Kris grits out, clutching at his thigh in a desperate attempt to stop the sharp, hot pain radiating from his knee. He bites down hard on his lip and focuses on trying to catch his breath as he slowly sits up. 

He feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Votto crouching next to him, concern on his face. “You alright there, Bryant?” he asks, offering Kris a hand up, but Kris waves it off, shaking his head. Votto frowns, motioning across the field for PJ and Joe to hurry up. 

“Your knee?” PJ asks, taking Votto’s place next to Kris and reaching for the painful joint. Kris nods, his breath coming in harsh pants as PJ touches him, straightening his leg and gently probing the area. “Alright, let’s get you out of here. Do you think you can put weight on it?”

“No,” Kris admits. With the way his knee buckled on him, he doesn’t even want to try. 

“That’s fine, we’ve got you,” PJ says, then glances up at Joe. “Can you-“

“Already on it,” Joe says, nodding at Chili Davis as he comes out of the dugout towards them. 

Between PJ and Davis, they manage to get Kris on his feet-well, foot-and start slowly making their way to the dugout. It’s awkward, both because of the height difference between the two men supporting Kris, but also because it’s just always awkward to hop on one foot for a long period. Rizzo, making his way to the batter’s box, gives Kris a reassuring smile. Kris smiles back, but it does nothing to ease the concern reflected in Rizzo’s eyes.

 

Kris can’t help but groan when he hears a knock on his door a few hours later. It has to be one of his teammates or else the doorman wouldn’t have let him up, but he really doesn’t want to get up. The knocking doesn’t stop, however, and his phone starts to vibrate with an incoming call from Rizzo.

“Hey, Rizz,” he answers his phone, putting it on speaker so he doesn’t have to hold it up. 

“Come let me in, Bryant. Your neighbors are going to start thinking I’m weird if I stand out here much longer,” Rizzo says, and the knocking ceases. 

“You’re going to make me get up?” Kris complains, slowly swinging his legs off the couch and putting his weight on his good leg first. “I’m a cripple.”

“Yeah, whatever, hop your way over to the door and open it,” Rizzo says, starting to knock obnoxiously again.

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Kris says, wincing as he puts his weight on his injured knee. “Give me a minute, I’m a little slow right now.”

“Alright,” Anthony says, but his knocking doesn’t stop again. 

“You’re a jerk,” Kris says when he finally yanks the door open, turning around immediately to head back to the couch.

“You love me anyways,” Anthony replies easily, shutting the door behind him and wrapping an arm around Kris’s waist. Kris leans against his teammate, letting him take some of his weight. “How’s the knee feeling?”

“I already texted you guys the diagnosis – hyperextended, out two weeks,” Kris says, gratefully dropping down onto the couch.

“I didn’t ask what the diagnosis was, I asked how it feels now,” Anthony says, helping Kris prop his leg up on pillows. 

“Better now, since I’ve been resting and took ibuprofen,” Kris shrugs.

“Can I get you anything?” Anthony asks, perching on the arm of the couch. The look of concern on his face tugs at Kris’s heart.

“Some fresh ice packs would be appreciated,” Kris says, gesturing at the pile of warm ones on his coffee table. “You don’t need to worry about me, you know.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Anthony says, disappearing into the kitchen with the melted ice packs. He returns a minute later with some cold ones, settling them around Kris’s knee.

“You really don’t, I’ll be back out there with you guys in no time,” Kris insists, motioning for Anthony to take a seat at the end of the couch.

“Are you going to be joining us in San Francisco at all?” Anthony asks, concern still written across his features. He doesn’t even complain when Kris sticks his foot into his lap, something that would normally result in squawking.

“Nah, I’ll be staying here until after the break, and I should be back to playing with you guys against the Diamondbacks,” Kris says. “Speaking of, aren’t you guys supposed to be flying out tonight?”

“My stuff’s already in my car, I’ll just head straight to the airport from here, but I wanted to see you first,” Anthony says, glancing down at his hands. “If you’re really tired, though, I can go. I should’ve texted first-“

“No, no, it’s nice to have company,” Kris says, poking Anthony with a toe to keep him from moving. “I’ll miss you guys while you’re on the road and over the break, but at the same time, I’m glad this happened now.”

“Not heartbroken about having to miss the All-Star Game?” Anthony asks, grinning at Kris.

“I’d be more heartbroken if I had to miss two full weeks of meaningful baseball games,” Kris replies, poking Anthony again.

“What, you don’t think that the All-Star Game is the most meaningful game out there?” Anthony asks sarcastically.

Kris rolls his eyes, not bothering to dignify that with a response as he grabs his water bottle from the floor next to him. Anthony sighs dramatically, drumming on Kris’s calf idly.

“Well, I’m heartbroken that you won’t be there with me,” he says. “You’re going to leave me all alone with Bryce Harper?”

“Yes, because you and Bryce will be the only two people there, and you will be forced to spend every second interacting pleasantly with him,” Kris says, barely managing to keep his sarcasm from getting snappish. Anthony’s jealousy of Bryce got old very fast, and he really isn’t in the mood for it, anyways.

“I’d much rather spend my time with you,” Anthony says, pouting and batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly. “Is that such a crime?”

“No, but I wish you’d give the Bryce stuff a rest for once,” Kris sighs, his lighter mood now gone, replaced by exhausted irritation. “He’s not a bad guy, you don’t really know him. You two are actually a lot alike in some ways.”

“Sorry,” Anthony stops drumming on Kris’s leg, squeezing it gently in apology instead. 

“It’s okay, I just wish you’d let it go. You’re my best friend, you know that, right? Bryce and I are friends, yeah, but you and I are closer,” Kris says.

“What, are you saying that jealousy isn’t a good look on me?” Anthony asks with a rueful smile.

“Not as good a look as when you’re acting normal and happy,” Kris says, prompting a pointed grin from Anthony. 

“You saying I’m good-looking, Bryant?” He asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Kris sighs dramatically, sticking his foot in Anthony’s face and forcing him to lean away, wrinkling his nose. “Not as good-looking as me, I’m afraid. Keep trying though.”

“We can’t all be models in addition to baseball players, alright? You’re just on a level all your own, way above the rest of us,” Anthony says, shoving Kris’s foot out of the way. “Despite your disgusting feet.”

“My feet are as amazing as the rest of me,” Kris says loftily, ignoring the flutter in his chest at Anthony’s words. 

“Really? Then I think I have to reassess. You might be on a level below the rest of us, then,” Anthony says, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Oh, come on, my feet smell nowhere near as bad as Schwarber’s,” Kris protests. “Wanna check again?” He lifts his foot slightly, grinning when Anthony immediately lunges off the couch, accidentally knocking Kris’s other leg in the process. Kris grimaces, leaning forwards and gripping his thigh. A hand lands gently on his shoulder, another on top of his own, keeping him from touching his knee. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Anthony says hurriedly, squeezing Kris’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kris says, straightening slowly and letting go of his leg. “Just got knocked a bit, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Anthony’s expression doesn’t clear, guilt still written across his features.

“It’s fine now, seriously,” Kris assures him, patting Anthony’s arm in attempt to convince him.

“I didn’t hurt it worse or anything? Aren’t you not supposed to move it like that?” Anthony asks anxiously.

Kris sits up, swinging his legs off the couch so he can face his friend. “See that brace there? That keeps it from moving in ways it’s not supposed to right now. It’s fine, I promise.”

“Well, no, it’s not fine, and that’s kind of why we’re here right now,” Anthony points out.

“As fine as it’s supposed to be right now,” Kris amends, rolling his eyes. “You need to worry less about me. Actually, shouldn’t you be worrying more about making your flight?”

“If you roll your eyes any more often, they’re going to fall out of your head, and then you’ll lose your most valuable asset,” Anthony teases him. “And, shit, yeah. Do you need anything before I go?”

“Nah, I think I’m just going to head to bed, but thank you,” Kris says, standing up slowly. 

“Do you want help getting over there?” Anthony asks quickly.

“Are you trying to make my eyes fall out from over-rolling?” Kris asks. “I can walk across my own apartment, really.”

“I’m just trying to help, jerk,” Anthony says, stepping back and putting his hands up. “We’ll miss you this week, although I’m sure you won’t miss our flight out to California.”

“Certainly not,” Kris grins. He leans into Anthony’s warmth when the first baseman pulls him into a tight hug. “Travel safely.”

“Thanks, and I hope you heal quickly,” Anthony says, giving Kris one last squeeze before heading out the door, giving Kris one last lingering glance. Kris sighs, already missing his friend’s company, and begins his slow hobble to his bedroom.

 

Kris grins tiredly as he shuts off the television, happy about his teammates’ 7-2 win. It’s only been one day, but he already misses playing with his team. He limps his way through getting ready for bed, settling in with his ice packs. 

_Good job tonight guys! Solid win out there_

He texts the group chat then goes to turn his phone off, expecting that he’ll just wake up to a plethora of messages from his teammates. Before he can, though, his phone rings with an incoming FaceTime call from Javy.

“KB!” Javy grins broadly, gesturing at the guys around him to join him. 

“Is that Kris?” He hears a couple of voices ask from the background, then what seems like half the team is crowded around Javy’s phone.

“We miss you,” Javy says, still smiling at Kris. 

“Are you sure?” Kris asks, Javy’s excitement boosting his mood as well. “Those two crazy catches you made and the homer seem to indicate more that I’m getting Wally Pipped.”

“You’re totally right,” La Stella puts in, the night’s second baseman. “The infield is so much better without you, we don’t want you back.”

There’s a general clamor of laughter and assent from the team, and Kris grins while he scans who’s there. It’s mostly the position players, but Kyle Hendricks and Brian Duensing are in the crowd, while Rizzo is nowhere to be seen.

“Seriously, though, how you doing, KB?” Heyward asks, and the crowd mostly quiets down.

“It’s only been one day, I don’t have a super healing,” Kris shrugs. “As far as I know, it’ll still be two weeks, but I’m currently hobbling my way around.”

“Well, we hope you feel better soon,” Duensing says. “I might prefer Javy’s defense behind me, but I’ll admit that your bat can occasionally be helpful.”

“You guys are mean tonight, and I’m injured. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?” Kris asks, grinning.

“I’m sure Rizz would defend you if he was over here,” Heyward says.

“Yeah, where is he? I would have thought that he’d want to talk to me,” Kris says, trying – and probably failing – to look casual. He coughs into his elbow, wincing at the scratchy feeling. When he looks back at the screen, most of the guys are chatting amongst themselves, or looking around, presumably for Rizzo, but Kyle is staring at Kris strangely.

“I don’t know, he’s not in the locker room,” Javy says with a shrug. “I could go find him.”

“Nah, it’s okay, since it’s pretty late here I’m just gonna head to bed. Congrats on the win, though, guys. Keep it up,” Kris smiles at his teammates, waiting for the chorus of goodbyes to end before he ends the call. He coughs again, a longer fit this time that leaves him breathless and rubbing at his chest. He resists the urge to sigh, concerned that it will cause another coughing fit, and turns off the light.

 

Kris hates being seriously injured, he’s decided. It seems obvious, but it sucks even more than he thought it would. He misses his teammates and spending time with a lot of people, because he’s only really seen the trainer at Wrigley over the last four days. His knee is steadily improving, but Kris wishes it could be faster, and his cough has gotten worse instead of better. He splits his time between working out and rehabbing at the ballpark and moping around his apartment. His teammates took two of three games in San Francisco, but Kris is trying not to beat himself up about not being there to help them. Two out of three is pretty good, especially considering it’s San Francisco right before the All-Star Break. 

He’s just settling onto his couch to watch some video of the Diamondbacks pitchers he convinced the video guys to send him when there’s a knock at his door. His teammates should all be in California, so it has to be one of his neighbors or else they would’ve been stopped in the lobby.

“Coming!” Kris calls, getting up and limping over to the door. He’s gotten better, but walking is still a laborious activity. 

“Hey,” Kyle Hendricks greets him when he opens the door. “How’re you doing?”

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you pitch last night?” Kris asks, automatically stepping back to let Kyle into his apartment.

“I did, and then told the trainers I was feeling quite sick,” Kyle tells him. 

“So they had you fly back early?” Kris coughs as he limps back to the couch, ready to take his weight off of his aching knee. “Are you actually sick?”

“Yes, because they didn’t want me to get the rest of the team sick, and I’m not going to be pitching again until after the break,” Kyle says, sitting down next to Kris. “And no, I’m not actually sick. But you are.”

“What? I’m injured, not sick,” Kris says.

“Yeah?” Kyle arches an eyebrow, reaching forward to pick something off of Kris’s sleeve and holding it up. “Then care to tell me why you’re coughing up flower petals?”

“People don’t cough up flower petals, that must have come from somewhere else in the house,” Kris snaps, snatching the petal from Kyle’s hand. He’d noticed flower petals on his pillow the past few nights, but ignored it.

“Yeah? Where are your blue flowers?” Kyle asks. “Kris, I’ve seen this before. You’re really sick.”

“What, because I’m coughing up flower petals? This doesn’t make any sense,” Kris says, rubbing at his chest. 

“It’s called Hanahaki disease. There’s a plant growing inside your chest, and eventually it’ll grow through your lungs and you’ll choke to death on flower petals,” Kyle informs him.

“I- what the fuck?” Kris asks. “You’re joking, right? That sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie or something.”

“I wish it was,” Kyle says somberly. “A friend of mine in college died from it.”

“But- I mean- How can you be sure? You’re not a doctor,” Kris points out, staring down at the flower petal in his hand.

“Have you heard of anything else that causes people to cough up flower petals?” Kyle asks him.

“Well, no, but- I feel fine, it’s just a little cough. I can’t be dying,” Kris argues.

“No, it’s not always fatal, but it will kill you in the next few months if you don’t do anything,” Kyle says. “My friend died within two months of first coughing up petals, but his progressed faster than yours seems to have.”

“How do I get rid of it?” Kris asks, doing his best to ignore Kyle’s constant mentions of death.

“Well, you can get surgery to remove it, but it’s only about 60% successful,” Kyle says. “There are medications that can slow the growth, which only work for so long. It’s caused by unrequited love, and the only sure way to cure it is for the love to become requited.”

“Unrequited love?” Kris asks. “I’m not in love with anyone.”

“Aren’t you?” Kyle lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m not!” Kris insists. 

“Kris, that’s the only cause of this, and if you don’t do something about it, you will die,” Kyle says. “Please, I can’t watch another friend of mine die from this. If you don’t believe me, at least Google it or see a doctor. Please, Kris.”

“I’m not going to die from this,” Kris insists again. The idea of dying is so foreign to him right now, he can’t even fathom it. He just has a cough, it’s not going to actually kill him. “I’ll look into it more, okay?”

“Make sure you do,” Kyle says, standing up. The grim look is still in his eyes, but his expression is carefully neutral. He gestures for Kris to stay seated when he starts to move. “No, no, don’t bother your knee, I can see myself out. And please, take this seriously. Hanahaki isn’t something you want to gamble with, and the surgery is still risky.”

“I will,” Kris promises. Kyle gives him one last tight smile, letting himself out of Kris’s apartment and leaving the third baseman with a lot to think about.

 

Kris manages to ignore Kyle’s warnings while he makes himself dinner and does his knee stretches, figuring it can’t hurt to wait a day or two to deal with it. As he’s settling down to watch Netflix, however, his phone buzzes. He glances down to check the notification, smiling when he sees three messages from Rizzo. He rubs his chest idly as he opens the messages, but starts coughing before he can read them. When the coughing fit finally ends, Kris looks down, unsurprised to see a collection of flower petals. He brushes them off, looking down again at his messages.

_Off days are no fun without you :(_  
Your San Diego buds are gonna be sad that you’re not playing here  
How’s the knee?

_Off days are even less fun stuck at home with a bum knee_  
I bet I’m more upset than they are  
Getting better but no magical improvement

_Yeah, you might have a point  
Still on track to be back for the AZ series?_

_Yep_

_:D_

Kris smiles down at his phone, glad that his teammates are still keeping him in the loop even though he’s halfway across the country. He coughs weakly again, another flower petal dislodging itself from his lungs. Sighing, he crushes the petal between his fingers, reluctantly opening a new window and Googling ‘Hanahaki disease.’

The MayoClinic link is the first that comes up, so Kris taps on it, biting his lip anxiously as the page loads.

“Hanahaki disease,” the website reads, “is a progressive disease in which a plant grows in the chest and into the lungs, eventually leading to death. The noticeable symptoms begin only after the plant has started growing into the lungs. Prior to that, the only symptom is a slight tightness in the chest. Once the plant has started growing into the lungs, the person begins to cough up flower petals. They later begin to cough up leaves and stem pieces as well, and eventually blood accompanies the petals, leaves, and stems. The average time between the person first coughing up petals and when the plant grows completely through the lungs, choking the person, is three months, while the longest known cases last six months. After blood starts to appear along with the petals, it is usually only a few weeks at most before the plant grows completely through the lungs.’

‘Hanahaki is caused by powerful unrequited love, whether the affected person is aware that they are in love or not. The only completely successful cure is for the person’s feelings to be requited. If the person’s feelings are returned but they are unaware of it, the flower’s growth will not halt. The plant can be removed surgically, but due to the location of the plant, the surgery is difficult and risky. There is only about a 60% success rate of Hanahaki removal surgery. Once blood has started to be coughed up along with the petals, the success rate drops to about 40%. In the aftermath of the surgery, the person loses all romantic love for the person who caused the Hanahaki. In rare cases, the removal of the plant leaves the person unable to love at all.’

‘Many medications that are designed to address respiratory infections can slow the growth of the plant for a time. They become less effective as the plant becomes immune to them, but they can slow the growth, if taken early enough, by up to a month.’

‘If you believe you have Hanahaki, seek out a doctor immediately, especially if you are unsure of who you are in love with. If you know that your love is unrequited, it is important to get the surgery as soon as possible before the disease progresses too far. If you are not sure whether or not your love is returned, speak to the person you are in love with immediately to find out whether your feelings are requited.”

Kris closes the tab, turning off his phone in horror. He hadn’t exactly not believed Kyle, but some small part of him had hoped it was just an elaborate prank. It’s still hard to believe that he could be dying, and dying quickly, from something that seems as ridiculous as this. He has no idea who he might be in love with, so he has no way to address the issue other than having a risky surgery.

_I’ll talk to the trainer about it tomorrow, see what he says_  
Kris texts Kyle, hoping it will ease the pitcher’s mind somewhat.

_Or you could talk to whoever you’re in love with_

_I don’t know who that is  
So that would be kinda hard_

_You have no idea?_  
Think about who you interact with, it might come to you  
Or watch highlight videos

_Highlight videos??  
You think I’m in love with one of our teammates??_

_You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you’ll figure it out_  
Quickly, hopefully  
Try to figure it out on your own, but if you have no idea, I’ll tell you what I think later

_Okay, thanks_

Kris sighs, going into the YouTube app to look up a Cubs highlights video. The first one he sees has a thumbnail of a smiling Rizzo, and Kris grins at the sight of his teammate’s smile, coughing up a petal as he does so. The video is a half hour long, though, which he doesn’t really want to sit through. His own highlights should show him what he needs, though, so he pulls up a different video, watching himself hit a towering home run onto Waveland, then hugging Rizzo once he gets back to the plate. He coughs again, skipping past a section that seems to be just defensive highlights. The rest of the video seems to be just homers, with occasionally a few seconds of him hugging teammates or high fiving them in the dugout. He doesn’t understand why Kyle thinks highlight videos are such an easy way to figure this out, they’ve told him absolutely nothing so far.

Deciding to table it for the moment, Kris turns off his phone and back to Netflix. He’ll talk to the trainer tomorrow, ask about the medications that can slow the plant’s growth while he figures out who the cause of this is. And if he can’t figure it out immediately, he’ll have at least some time before he has to decide whether or not to get the surgery. Hopefully, at least, he’ll be able to figure it out when he rejoins the team.

 

“How’s the knee feeling today?” Ed Halbur, the trainer Kris has been working with while the team is away, asks the next day when Kris comes in to get checked out. 

“A little bit better,” Kris says, hopping up on the table at his gesture. “I actually have something else I want to talk to you about, after we’re done with this.”

“Alright,” Ed says, taking off Kris’s knee brace and bending the joint, feeling for the stability of the joint. “You looked like you were walking better when you came in here, does it feel better?”

“Yeah, it hurts less and moves easier now,” Kris tells him, wincing slightly as Ed moves it in a way that’s still uncomfortable.

“Except for that, I take it?” Ed raises an eyebrow, not missing Kris’s wince. “Alright, if you’d walk across the room, let me see how that goes.”

Kris hops off the table, more slowly than usual, careful of his bad knee. It feels better than he thought it would without the brace, and he moves with more confidence as he goes.

“That’s good for now, come back over here,” Ed says eventually. He checks the knee again when Kris is sitting, nodding slightly. “Looks pretty good. I think we can ditch the brace now and up your rehab exercises.”

“Great,” Kris says, glad to be able to get back into a more normal pattern. It’s been weird to not be able to work out like he usually does, and he can’t say he’s enjoyed the feeling. 

“Now, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” Ed asks, sitting down on his stool.

Kris sighs, coughing weakly as he tries to figure out how to start this conversation. It turns out that he’s given an easy way, because he simply holds up the flower petal he’s coughed up. 

“I’ve been coughing up petals,” he says quietly, letting Ed take the bright blue petal from him. Ed looks down at it, studying it closely as if he can find new information written in it.

“Do you know what this means?” He asks, eyes solemn.

“Hanahaki disease, right?”

“I’m afraid so. How long has this been going on?”

“I first noticed it the day I got injured,” Kris tells him.

“This is more than what I’m supposed to deal with, I’m afraid,” Ed says. “I think you should be talking to Dr. Adams about this. Do you want me to get him now, or…”

“Now would be great, thanks,” Kris manages a tight smile.

“Alright, if you’ll just hang out here for a moment, I’m pretty sure he’s not doing anything at the moment,” Ed says, pushing back his stool and leaving the room.

Kris leans back against the wall behind him, sighing for what feels like the billionth time since getting injured, or even since talking to Kyle yesterday. His chest tightens, triggered by his sigh, and he dissolves into another coughing fit, leaning forward and coughing miserably. While he’s trying to get his breathing under control and stop his coughing, of course Dr. Adams walks in, seeming surprised to see him there.

“Need some water?” He asks, putting a hand on Kris’s back as he does his best to hack up a lung. Kris waves a free hand dismissively, wincing as what feels like a clump of flower petals comes up, finally leaving his airway clear. “That’s quite the cough you’ve got.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Kris says, a little hoarsely, looking down at the petals strewn over his hand. “It hasn’t been that bad before.”

“Well, Hanahaki is a progressive disease, so I’m afraid it will keep getting worse. Ed said you know a little about it?” Dr. Adams passes Kris the trash can, letting him sweep the flower petals into it.

“I looked online a little last night, but I’d never heard of it before yesterday,” Kris admits.

“So you know the cause?” Dr. Adams asks. At Kris’s nod, he continues. “Have you talked to the person you’re in love with?”

“I don’t know who I’m in love with,” Kris says sheepishly. “It said online that there are medications that can slow the growth? I don’t want to get the surgery midseason, or before I figure out who it is and talk to them.”

“That seems a reasonable way to proceed, although if it proceeds too far, you may have no choice but to get the surgery before the season ends,” Dr. Adams says, rolling his stool over to the counter where his laptop sits. He taps at it for a few moments, pulling up Kris’s medical records and entering some new information. “Of course, we want to avoid that if at all possible, because the surgery is fairly risky. When did it start?”

“Yeah, I don’t want that,” Kris says, trying not to outwardly cringe at the thought of a surgeon opening his chest and ripping out the plant growing through his lungs. “I’m not entirely sure. I first noticed it the day I got injured, but I’ve had a cough since we went to Denver.”

“So over a month ago,” Dr. Adams says, seemingly to himself. “I’m going to check your breathing now, see if the Hanahaki has diminished it so far.” He takes out his stethoscope, carefully listening as Kris takes the deepest breaths he can manage. “Hmm, it seems like it’s starting to, but not too far yet.”

“What does that mean?” Kris asks nervously.

“The longer it goes, the less likely the medication is to have much of an impact. In some cases, it does nothing, and in others, it can even cause the growth to accelerate. That’s extremely rare, though, so we’ll get you started on the medication right away. Doryx is the most commonly used one for early cases of Hanahaki, so I think we’ll start with that and see how it goes,” Dr. Adams says. “If you have any loss of appetite or nausea, let me know, and we’ll try a different medication.”

“Okay,” Kris agrees, taking the prescription Dr. Adams hands to him. “So this should keep the plant from growing for awhile?”

“It’ll slow it down, but it won’t stop the growth. You’ll keep coughing up the petals, but hopefully the amount won’t increase. However, the plant will become immune to the medication before after a little while, and your symptoms will worsen again,” Dr. Adams cautions.

“And then I’ll die,” Kris mutters. 

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to avoid here,” Dr. Adams says. “If you don’t figure out who you’re in love with before the plant becomes immune, you’ll start coughing up blood and other pieces of the plant along with the petals. The moment either of those things happens, you need to come see me. Once that happens, it won’t be long before the plant grows too far through your lungs for the surgery to have any significant chance of being successful.”

“Okay, I will,” Kris says, standing up and shaking Dr. Adams’ hand. 

“Best of luck, Kris,” Dr. Adams returns to his laptop as Kris limps out of the room.

 

“Kris!” Anthony’s holler is the best thing Kris has heard since getting injured over a week ago. Kris turns from facing his locker to see his teammate barreling across the room towards him, barely slowing enough to keep from knocking Kris backwards as he hugs him. “Man, it’s so fucking good to see you again. The All-Star game sucked without you.”

“I’m hoping you missed me during the real games as well,” Kris says, hugging Anthony back and letting himself sink into the warm embrace.

“Well yeah, of course,” Anthony pulls back a little, smiling, but keeps an arm around Kris’s shoulder. “How’s the knee?”

“Really good, actually. I’m going to Iowa tomorrow, I’ll hopefully play one game there and be back with you guys for the last two games of this series,” Kris says, grinning and following along with Anthony.

“That’s awesome!” Anthony squeezes his shoulder. “I thought it wasn’t until the next series at the earliest?”

“Apparently I heal faster than expected,” Kris shrugs.

“Good thing you do, it’s not the same playing without you,” Anthony says, letting go of Kris to trot up the dugout steps onto the field. “What do you say we test that knee, do some jogging around the outfield?”

“Absolutely!” Kris stretches his knee, grateful when it doesn’t protest the movement. “I’ve missed running.”

“And I talked to Ed today and he said you’re cleared to run, so let’s go, slowpoke!” Anthony takes off, racing along the dirt. Kris starts after him, easily overtaking him thanks to his longer legs.

“Wow, I spent a week and a half injured and I’m still faster than you? Gotta step it up there, Rizz,” Kris teases, turning around and jogging backwards in front of Anthony. 

“You mean you spent a week and a half vacationing while I was busting my ass playing for this team?” Anthony shoots back.

“Vacationing? I think you mean dealing with terrible, terrible physical therapy every day and watching you guys be worse without me?” Kris laughs.

“Hey, we did just fine without you!” Anthony protests, reaching out to shove Kris. Kris darts out of the way, running ahead of his teammate again.

“Sure, sure. But you’ll be better with me again,” Kris says, settling into step with Anthony as they slow to a reasonable pace for a longer run.

“I mean, we still have at least two more games without you,” Anthony points out. “But yeah, it’ll be really nice having you back.”

“It sucked being here without you all. It got really lonely just working out here by myself,” Kris admits. 

“I can imagine,” Anthony says sympathetically. “But you’re back now. Try not to get injured again too quickly, would you?”

“Definitely,” Kris agrees. They lapse into a comfortable silence, Kris soaking in the atmosphere of his home ballpark and being back with his best friend. 

 

After several laps around the field, Anthony slows to a stop by the dugout. 

“I think I’m going to call it a day,” he says. “You going to keep going?”

“Nah, it’s probably best to not push my knee too much right away,” Kris says regretfully. 

“Good call,” Anthony agrees. “You going to go check in with PJ?”

“Yeah, he’ll probably want to look things over,” Kris sighs. “I hate dealing with constant visits to the trainer.”

“Sucks, man,” Anthony says. 

“It does, but oh well,” Kris shrugs, walking with Anthony back to the locker room. “It’s still good to have you all back.”

“Likewise,” Anthony gives Kris another quick hug before heading towards the weight room. Kris feels the familiar tightness in his chest as he stops to grab his water bottle, smiling at his teammate’s retreating back. He coughs into his arm, glancing down at the flower petals he’s produced. The blood-spattered flower petals. 

Hendricks walks into the locker room, smiling and opening his mouth to say something when he catches sight of the bloody petals Kris is holding.

“Is that-“ he stops, horror written across his features. “How has it gotten that bad so fast?”

“It wasn’t, not until just now,” Kris says. “The medication worked for the last week, this is the first time I’ve coughed up blood.”

“Have you figured it out yet?” Kyle asks, gaze still locked on the blood and flowers.

“No, I-“ Kris stops, looking at the the door Anthony had disappeared through. He had been fine while running with Anthony, but the moment he leaves Anthony’s side, he’s coughing up petals, along with blood. “I’m in love with Anthony.”

“That’s what it seems like to me,” Kyle says. “You going to talk to him?”

“I-I-“ Kris stammers. He’s in love with his first baseman.

“Kris, you have to talk to him,” Kyle says.

“I-yeah, I will, but, I-“ Kris shakes his head. Talking to the person he’s in love with was an easy concept when he didn’t have to picture a specific person on the other end of the conversation. “I can’t just say that to him. What would I say? And besides, I’m sure he doesn’t-“

Kyle fixes Kris with an icy stare. “This is your life, Kris. It matters a lot more than being embarrassed by an awkward conversation with Rizzo. And, what, you’re sure he doesn’t love you back? How are you sure?”

“Can we talk about this not in the locker room where anyone could walk in?” Kris mutters. Kyle rolls his eyes, but follows Kris out of the room and into an empty storage closet.

“Huh, I never knew this was here,” Kyle comments.

“I come here when I need a moment of peace and quiet. I’m not a starting pitcher, we don’t all get left alone when we need to get ready for a game,” Kris says. “But anyways, Rizzo is straight, so that kinda ends it right there.”

“Again, how do you know that for sure? Have you asked him?”

“No, but- I mean, this is professional baseball. Pro sports don’t exactly attract a lot of LGBT guys,” Kris says.

“Yeah, but you’re here,” Kyle points out. “You don’t know unless you ask him. And if you don’t talk to him, you’re either going to die or need risky, probably season-ending surgery. So suck it up and talk to your best friend.”

“It sounds easy when you put it like that, but how do I even say that to him? ‘Oh, nice at bat there Rizz, and by the way, I’m dying because I’m in love with you, and I’m off to Iowa!’ I don’t think that’ll go over too well,” Kris says. Anthony is straight and even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’s in love with Kris. There’s no way he’ll return Kris’s affections, so there’s not going to be an easy resolution to this.

“You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can figure it out,” Kyle assures him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Although I would advise not doing it mid-game.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kris mutters sarcastically. Kyle opens the door to the closet, then turns back.

“Oh, and Kris?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do it before the end of this series. Once you start coughing up blood, it won’t take long before it grows too far through your lungs,” Kyle warns.

“I will,” Kris promises. Once the door closes again, Kris sinks to the ground, burying his head in his hands as he coughs again.

 

“Kris, come on in,” Dr. Adams says when Kris knocks on his office door. “What brings you here?”

“I’m coughing up bloody petals now,” Kris says bluntly.

“Already?” Dr. Adams’ eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, dear. That’s not good news. If you still don’t know who you’re in love with, I think we need to schedule the surgery right away. There’s a specialist here in Chicago who does Hanahaki removals, I’d like to contact her and see when she could get you in. Unless, of course, you’ve figured it out and the Hanahaki can dissolve naturally.”

“I mean, I’ve figured out who it is, but you should probably schedule the surgery anyways,” Kris says, wincing as he starts to cough again. It’s a longer fit than they have been before, leaving him breathless and gagging on the taste of blood in his mouth. His chest feels impossibly tight, making it hard to breathe even though he’s not coughing right now.

Dr. Adams doesn’t comment, merely handing Kris a tissue to clean up the bloody petals. “I’ll get in touch with Dr. McCabe right away and let you know what she says. We might need to get a scan done so she can see how far it’s grown.”

“Okay, thank you,” Kris says, standing up to throw out the bloody tissue and returning to the locker room to join the rest of the team.

 

Despite the nagging anxiety in the back of his mind about the Hanahaki and upcoming surgery, it’s easy enough to settle back into a familiar routine. He takes BP down in the cages within Wrigley so the guys actually playing can take their swings out on the field, but other than that, he treats it like he’s warming up normally for a game. It’s another beautiful sunny day, just like the day he got injured, and he can feel it in his bones that it’s going to be a good game today.

And even though he has to constantly duck into a hallway or bathroom to cough up the plant that’s growing through his lungs, it’s nice being back around his teammates. They’re all loose and relaxed after the All-Star Break, ready to take on their division rivals and start off the second half of the season with a bang.

“Hey, it’s Wally Pipp!” La Stella greets Kris when he comes back into the locker room after having PJ check his knee over one last time. “How’s it feel to be in the presence of the guy who took your job?”

“Very humbling,” Kris says dryly. “I could never hope to compare to the three homers you hit over the whopping six games I was gone.”

“Do I sense some jealousy there, Bryant?” Zo raises his eyebrows, smirking at Kris.

“Remind me again why I was so excited to be back with all of you?” Kris asks the room at large, grinning at the familiar protests and jokes that ensue.

 

Kris hates sitting on the bench watching his teammates and knowing that he won’t be able to help, but his teammates seem determined to make it easier for him. They put up four runs in the first and another two in the third, and with Hendricks dominating the Cardinals, it’s nice to just stand at the rail and enjoy the game as a spectator. 

“Getting the scope on those hitters for Saturday, huh?” Lester jokes, joining Kris at the rail. 

“Oh yeah, I’m going to be so ready to pitch against them when I’m back,” Kris laughs, enjoying the company of his teammates again. “Throw a perfect game my first time pitching while you watch in envy.”

“Yeah, totally,” Lester claps Kris on the back. “It’s good to have you back with us. Team isn’t the same without you.”

“I’m more than ready to be back on the field, and it’s so much nicer to have company at the ballpark,” Kris agrees. 

He feels the familiar scratchiness of his throat that indicates a coughing fit is coming, so he nods to Lester and runs down the tunnel into the bathroom. He gags at the bloody taste as the flowers slide up his throat, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet as he throws up. He coughs a few times to be sure that all the flower petals are dislodged. He washes his mouth out, doing his best to avoid looking at the bloody flowers as he flushes the toilet. At least it’s faster than coughing up each petal individually, he supposes.

“You alright?” Lester asks when Kris rejoins him, giving him a weird look.

“Fine,” Kris assures him, fighting the urge to wipe his mouth again to make sure all the blood is gone. He’d already checked in the mirror, but he’s still worried about his teammates finding out. “Did I miss anything exciting?”

“Just Kyle getting two quick outs,” Lester says, nodding at the field where Hendricks is conferring with Contreras. “You know you can talk to us, right, Kris?”

“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?” Kris says, focusing intently on the action on the field as Molina fouls one back.

“Something’s bugging you,” Lester says quietly, leaning forwards and covering his mouth with his hand so no cameras can pick up on what he’s saying. “We’re your teammates. You’re supposed to be able to talk to us when something’s wrong.”

Kris sighs, rubbing idly at his chest. The tightness and shortness of breath hasn’t seemed to go away since this morning. “Not during the game.”

“Okay,” Lester puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently, turning away so he can greet Kyle as the rest of the Cubs make their way back into the dugout.

“Enjoying the show, Kris?” Rizzo asks, tossing his glove at Kris’s chest. Kris catches it easily, rolling his eyes and throwing it back.

“Yes, I am greatly enjoying standing here and watching you guys play inferior baseball without me,” Kris says dryly.

“Of course you are,” Anthony grins, flicking Kris in the ear as he goes to collect his bat.

Kris rolls his eyes yet again and settles back against the rail, soaking in the sunlight as he coughs lightly. He tenses, ready to duck out so he can cough in private if necessary, but it doesn’t seem to be about to trigger a full coughing fit this time. Trying to avoid Kyle’s notice, he grabs himself some water from the cooler in an attempt to keep the cough under control. 

“You good there, Kris?” Kyle asks, his tone carefully light, in contrast with his eyes burning into Kris.

“Fine,” Kris does his best to smile brightly despite the tightness in his chest that he knows isn’t entirely caused by the Hanahaki. “Just focus on your job, huh?”

Kyle glares at him for a beat, dark eyes intense and guarded, then shakes his head and stalks across the dugout. 

The Cubs score another run in the bottom of that inning, giving Kyle a nice 7-0 lead to take into the eighth. Lester rejoins Kris at the dugout to watch again, gaze fixed intently on St. Louis’ hitters.

“They seem to be biting a lot today,” Kris offers as Fowler swings and misses, striking out.

“Yeah, and swinging at pretty much every first pitch,” Lester says. “We pitchers tend to like it when hitters act stupid.” He nudges Kris gently, grinning.

“Hey,” Kris protests mildly. He cheers when Tommy makes a diving stop at third, throwing from his knees to get the runner at first. 

“With plays like that, who needs you?” Lester teases Kris, but Kris feels his smile fading off his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Tommy,” Kris jerks his chin at third, where Tommy is getting up slowly, cradling his wrist. 

“Oh, fuck,” Lester mutters, quieting as PJ and Joe trot out on the field to check on Tommy. “What’d you do, curse the position?”

“I certainly hope not,” Kris says, trying to listen to PJ’s conversation with Tommy. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but Tommy seems to be shaking his head a lot as PJ checks out his wrist. Eventually PJ looks up at Joe and says something, then the three of them start making their way back to the dugout.

“Happer, you’re up. Baez is moving to third and you’re going to be at second,” Joe says. Tommy and PJ continue down into the tunnel, Tommy still cradling his seemingly injured wrist. 

“That doesn’t look good,” Lester frowns. “Looks like you might not be getting Wally Pipped after all, huh?” 

Kris laughs humorlessly, wincing as he starts to cough again. Lester starts to say something, but Kris shoots him a tight-lipped smile as he tries not to run to the tunnel so as not to arouse suspicion. His lungs are burning by the time he makes it out of sight so he can cough freely. The petals slide up his throat as he hacks miserably, cutting off his air supply as he struggles to clear them. His throat is painful and raw by the time he finally gets rid of this batch of petals. Breathing raggedly, Kris closes his eyes and leans against the wall behind him. He rubs his chest as he tries to catch his breath. Damn this plant in his chest for trying to kill him just because he’s in love with Anthony. 

Quickly cleaning up the bloody petals from the floor, Kris makes his way back out to the dugout in time to see their team coming in off the field, another zero on the board thanks to Kyle. 

“Kyle’s having himself a game, isn’t he?” Kris smiles at Jon, hoping the pitcher won’t comment on his quick exit. It’s not a no-hitter, so he won’t have his head ripped off for mentioning it.

“You’re coming out with the team after the game, and you’re going to talk to me,” Jon’s stare warns him not to argue. Kris rubs at his chest again, too tired to bother trying to get out of the upcoming conversation. He just nods, looking back at where Anthony is taking his at bat.

 

The game ends 7-0 with a complete game shut out for Kyle, and Kris does his best to seem excited. He’s genuinely happy for his teammates and about the win, but he’s really not feeling it tonight.

“Who’s ready to go out and celebrate that kickass performance!” Anthony yells when they get back into the clubhouse, an arm slung around Kyle’s shoulders.

“No, I’m actually kind of tired-“ Kyle tries to protest, but Anthony simply covers his mouth with his hand and talks louder.

“So anyways, we’re going to go celebrate Kyle kicking some Cardinal ass and Kris being unbroken again!” Rizzo points across the room at Kris. “And don’t you dare try to protest either, because I will drag both of you out there and force you to have a good time!”

“Duly noted,” Kris says, forcing a smile. Kyle and Jon both give him looks, but Kris does his best to ignore them and join in the celebratory mood of the locker room.

“Hey, Kris.” He turns from his locker to see their first base coach standing in front of Anthony’s locker.

“Hey, Brandon, what’s up?” Kris asks, taking a long drink from his water bottle.

“Joe wants to see you,” Brandon says. “I think it’s about your rehab assignment.”

Probably because of Tommy’s injury, Kris figures. “Alright, I’ll head down there.”

“He’s in Theo’s office, actually,” Brandon says, leaving before Kris can get out another question. He slips out of the locker room while Rizzo is still distracted by Kyle, making his way to the front offices. A meeting with Joe about changing his rehab assignment because of Tommy wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, but meeting with Joe and Theo? Nothing good can come of that.

 

Kris raps gently on the doorframe of Theo’s office. “Come in!” Theo calls out. Kris steps in, glancing around to see not only Theo and Joe, but also PJ, Dr. Adams, and Jed Hoyer.

“Hi,” Kris says awkwardly, taking a seat in the open chair that Theo gestures to.

“Hi, Kris. We have a few things to talk about with you,” Theo says. “I’ll let Joe start.”

“I don’t have a third baseman for tomorrow,” Joe says bluntly. “Russell has been nursing his foot injury, I wanted to give him tomorrow off, but that’s not going to work with Tommy out.”

“How is Tommy, by the way?” Kris cuts in quickly.

“He’ll be fine,” PJ says. “Sprained wrist, but he shouldn’t be out more than a few days.”

“That’s good to hear,” Kris says.

“Anyways, I saw you took BP today. Do you feel up to playing against the Cardinals tomorrow?” Joe asks.

“Absolutely,” Kris says. 

“I’m going to be checking in with you every inning, and you better be honest with me how your knee feels,” PJ says.

“Of course,” Kris agrees.

“So that’s settled, then,” Theo almost smiles. “Now, for the more serious part of this conversation. We need to discuss your Hanahaki removal surgery and how to handle that.”

“I spoke with Dr. McCabe, and she can get you in on Sunday for the surgery,” Dr. Adams says.

“Sunday- as in, three days from now?” Kris asks. He’d known the surgery would have to be soon, but Sunday is really soon.

“Yeah. It’s best to do it immediately, before it gets any worse. You’ll have to go see her Saturday morning so she can get a scan of the flower’s growth and examine you herself.”

“Okay,” Kris says quietly, lowering his hand from where he’d been unconsciously rubbing at his chest.

“As long as your knee is good, you’ll be in the lineup Friday and Saturday,” Jed says. 

“And then we need to discuss what we’ll be releasing to the public regarding your surgery,” Theo adds.

“It’ll likely be six to eight weeks before you can begin working out again after the surgery, so the earliest you could be playing again would be probably mid-October,” Dr. Adams says.

“Obviously a season-ending surgery needs to be explained, but we’d like to respect your privacy as much as possible,” Theo says. “We can say that you needed to have a tumor in your lung removed and not mention that it’s Hanahaki, if you’d prefer.”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Kris says, grateful that the entire world won’t know that he’s dying because he’s in love with someone who doesn’t love him back. But season ending surgery? It’s not a minor procedure, but he’d never thought about the recovery time eating up the entire rest of the season.

“We can either release a statement before the game on Saturday or the one on Sunday,” Theo says. “If we do it on Saturday, you can get an ovation from the fans, but you’ll have to answer questions from the media afterwards. If we go with Sunday, you can avoid the media until you’ve recovered enough to be back here with the team.”

“I know you would probably prefer Sunday, but it’ll be devastating for the fans to suddenly lose one of their favorite players to an unexpected season-ending surgery,” Jed says. “It would be nice for them to get to give you a bit of a send-off and hear what you have to say about it, but if you feel strongly about it, of course we’ll go with Sunday.”

“We can do Saturday, I guess,” Kris agrees reluctantly. He’ll have to call his parents tonight and talk to the team, probably after the game tomorrow. 

“Thank you,” Theo says, standing up to shake Kris’s hand. “All of our offices are always open for you, whatever you need. The whole organization is here to support you.”

“Thank you,” Kris says, swallowing hard around the sudden tightness in his throat. He nods at the rest of the people in Theo’s office, making a hasty retreat before he can do something stupid.

He only makes it down a hallway and a half before he starts coughing, feeling like the plant in his chest is trying to rip through his lungs. Doubling over, he coughs hard, doing his best to dislodge the petals clogging his throat before he chokes on them. A warm hand lands on his back as he gasps for breath in between coughs, rubbing gently between his shoulder blades. Kris hacks again, finally getting the petals out of the way and surreptitiously shoving them in his pocket.

“Still can’t shake that cough, huh?” Anthony asks, keeping his hand on Kris’s back.

“Yeah,” Kris manages, breathing deeply and turning to look at Anthony.

“Kris, is that blood?” Anthony grabs Kris’s hand, staring in horror at his bloodied fingers. “What the hell?”

“Yeah,” Kris says again, using his sleeve in an attempt to clean the blood from his face. 

“What- are you alright? We need to go see Dr. Adams. Or the hospital? No, Dr. Adams first,” Anthony says insistently, wrapping an arm around Kris’s shoulders and starting to usher him down the hallway. 

“I already have,” Kris tells him, resisting Anthony’s efforts. “It’s-“ He tries to say that he’s fine, but to his horror, his voice breaks before he can get the words out. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Anthony says, taking Kris by the shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I-“ Kris swallows hard. “It’s- There’s a tumor growing in my lungs. They’re removing it on Sunday.”

“You-you’re sick?” Anthony asks, looking like the world has dropped out from underneath him. “Removing it? Like- surgically?”

“Yeah,” Kris rubs his chest. “I’ll be out for the season.”

“Oh, Kris,” Anthony pulls him into a hug, clutching him tightly as Kris starts to cry. “How long have you known this? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was just talking to Theo and Dr. Adams,” Kris tries to pull away from Anthony, to collect himself, but his teammate just holds him tighter. “I only just found out that they’re doing it on Sunday. I thought I’d have more-more time.”

“Oh, Kris,” Anthony says again. When Kris looks down at him, he sees that Anthony is crying too, but silently, tears slipping down his cheeks like rain.

“I’m sorry. It’s not- Don’t worry about me,” Kris says, grief twisting his heart at the naked pain on Anthony’s face.

“How can I not worry about my-my best friend?” Anthony asks. “How- With the surgery, you-you’ll be alright, right?”

Kris knows what Anthony is asking, what he can’t bring himself to say. “I mean, they’re going to be trying to cut out something from my lungs. It’s grown pretty far into them, so it’s not… It’s a pretty risky surgery.”

“You’re young and healthy and very fit, so surely it’ll be better for you?” Anthony asks, desperation leaking into his tone.

“Sure, but the location of the tumor makes it risky no matter what,” Kris says quietly.

“No, that’s- You’re going to be fine,” Anthony says, shaking his head and sounding more like himself. “How long’s the recovery time?”

“Um, six to eight weeks before I can start working out again,” Kris says, a little taken aback by Rizzo’s sudden change in attitude. “So it would probably be mid-October before I’ll be in playing shape again.”

“You’ll rejoin us for the NLCS, then,” Anthony says decisively. 

“At best,” Kris mutters. 

“Nope, that’s what’s going to happen,” Anthony says, keeping one arm around Kris while he wipes the tears from his face.

“Rizz, I don’t want to go out with the team tonight,” Kris admits, leaning against his teammate as he dries his face and tries to pull himself together.

“No, no, of course not,” Anthony agrees. “We’re going to go back to your place and just relax. You go to the parking lot, I’ll get your stuff and tell the team you’re feeling a little under the weather, okay?”

“You don’t have to-“ Kris tries.

Anthony wraps his free arm around Kris again. “You’re my best friend, I’m going to be there, whatever you need.”

Kris ignores the spike of pain that goes through his chest at the words, instead hugging Anthony back and letting himself embrace the warmth of his teammate’s care. God, he hopes that he won’t lose this after the surgery. He can live without his unrequited love for Anthony, but he would do anything to keep his friendship.

 

“Can I get you anything? Tea, soup, cough drops?” Anthony asks once they reach Kris’s apartment. Apparently the team had accepted Anthony’s explanation easily enough, probably aided by Lester and Hendricks. Anthony had insisted on swinging by his own apartment so he could crash at Kris’s for the night, but he’d spent the entire drive shooting Kris concerned glances. This would be a perfect opportunity to confess his feelings for Anthony, with no teammates around or any other distractions.

“I don’t have a cold,” Kris says, raising an eyebrow in amusement at his teammate.

“No, but you’ve been coughing up a lu-coughing a ton,” Anthony says, flinching away from the reminder of what’s wrong with Kris.

“Well, if I could just cough it up, that might be easier,” Kris laughs lightly, trying to cheer up Anthony a little. “No need for surgery if I remove it on my own, right?”

“That’s not funny,” Anthony looks vaguely nauseated, gaze dropping to Kris’s chest as if he can see into Kris’s lungs and the tumor growing there. 

“Would you rather I keep a good attitude about it, or be super depressed and convinced that I’m going to die?” Kris asks matter-of-factly, ignoring Anthony’s flinch at the word ‘die.’

“You’re Kris fucking Bryant, you’re not going to let this beat you,” Anthony says. “But anyways, can I get you anything for your cough?”

“No, it’s okay. I kinda just want to chill,” Kris admits. “Can we just watch a movie or something?”

“Of course,” Anthony agrees, dropping his bag next to the couch. “Moana?”

“That sounds nice,” Kris smiles, coughing a little into his elbow. 

“How about you set it up and I’ll make you tea, because I can tell your throat hurts even though you keep denying it,” Anthony suggests.

“Okay,” Kris drops onto the couch, turning on Netflix and queuing up the movie.

“Kettle’s on, it’ll be a few minutes,” Anthony settles onto the couch next to him, tugging at his shoulder until Kris leans back against him. “This timing sucks so much. I wish you could play with us again this season.”

“Wait, what?” Kris asks. “I’m going to be out there on the field for two more games. You’re not quite rid of me yet.”

“You’re playing?” Anthony asks incredulously. “Kris, you-“

“Are sick, yes, I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t play before I have surgery. My breathing’s fine when I’m not coughing, I can play just fine.”

“You’re cleared to play?”

“Dr. Adams was in Theo’s office when we discussed the plan, so yeah,” Kris shrugs. “It’ll be fine, Anthony. I can’t just end my season rolling on the ground like an idiot in front of Joey Votto.”

“Your favorite first baseman, huh?” Anthony teases.

“You’re my favorite first baseman,” Kris says quietly, turning to look Anthony in the eyes. 

“You’re my favorite third baseman,” Anthony replies. Kris stares at him for another moment, reading the grief and desperate hope in his eyes. Anthony leans forward slightly, but they’re interrupted by the whistling of the kettle. “I’ll go get that.”

“Thanks,” Kris scoots out of the way so Anthony can get off the couch, wincing when the motion triggers a coughing fit. 

Anthony comes back in just as Kris is cleaning up, thankfully after all the petals are carefully hidden in a tissue. Anthony doesn’t say anything, just grabs the trash can from across the room and holds it out so Kris can throw out the bloodstained tissues. Kris gratefully takes the proffered mug of tea, taking a long drink and sighing as the heated liquid soothes his sore throat. Anthony takes his previous position, wrapping an arm around Kris and leaning his head against Kris’s shoulder.

“Hey, Kris,” he says quietly, more serious than Kris can ever remember him being. “I know how this feels, you know? It sucks so much, and it feels like the world is ending, but you’re going to be okay.”

“But what if I’m not?” Kris whispers, turning his head so Anthony can’t see his face.

“Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed,” Anthony says. “It’s natural to be scared. I was fucking terrified when I was sick. But I got through it, and if I could get through it, I know you can. That doesn’t mean it sucks less, though.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make it suck less, is there.”

“No, not really,” Anthony admits. “But we’re all gonna be there for you, and you don’t have to do any of this alone. Your friends and family is really the only thing that makes it slightly less shitty.”

Kris sighs, rubbing his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“There’s no other place I’d want to be right now,” Anthony says. “I’ll be there with you through this whole thing. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Anthony,” Kris smiles, and for once the feeling in his chest is something good. “Ready to watch Moana kick some ass?”

“Always,” Anthony smiles back, ruffling Kris’s hair.

 

Less than an hour into the movie, Anthony reaches out and grabs the remote, pausing it. “Kris, there’s something I need to tell you,” he says, looking down at his hands. Kris pushes himself to a seated position so he can better see Anthony, trying to read his features.

“What is it?” Kris asks, perplexed by the mix of emotions in Anthony’s eyes.

Anthony takes a deep breath, raising his eyes to meet Kris’s gaze. “You know, when I was sick, I promised myself that if I got through it, I wouldn’t go through life with any regrets. I would live every day without wasting a moment, and I wouldn’t hold myself back for any reason. But I’ve broken my promise to myself in one thing, and I tried to convince myself it was because there’s no point, but the truth is I’ve just…been scared. I…God, please don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you.”

“Hey, I could never hate you. Even if you told me you killed a man I wouldn’t hate you,” Kris says, then considers it a moment. “Well, as long as it was a Cardinal, definitely. Anyone else, probably.”

“Do Cardinals even count as men, though, or just human-shaped slime?” Anthony asks, then shakes his head. “And I’m still stalling, because I’m still scared. But I’m more scared of losing you without saying this. I’m in love with you.”

Kris stares at him, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest. “You-you’re in love with me? This isn’t just a joke of some sort?”

Anthony looks taken aback, his dark eyes searching Kris’s face. “No, it’s not a joke. You don’t have to do anything about it or feel the same way, I just couldn’t let you go into a risky surgery without telling you. Please don’t be mad.”

“That’s not-“ Kris shakes his head, disbelieving. The tightness in his chest hasn’t gone away, and it’s still hard to breathe. Shouldn’t that have gone away? “Come here.”

Anthony looks wary, but scoots forward, closer to Kris. “Why-“

“Because I’m in love with you too, you moron,” Kris smiles, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut at how the Hanahaki hasn’t gone away. He leans forward, gently pressing his lips to Anthony’s. Anthony melts against him, the tension flooding out of his body. Kris feels a warm happiness start in his chest, accompanied by a sudden release of pressure. He pulls slightly back from Anthony, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he takes a deep breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for:  
> -a character coughing up bloody petals  
> -a character throwing up  
> -discussion of cancer and serious illness  
> -discussions of death
> 
> All comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
